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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28457688">New Year's Recollections</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alto_128/pseuds/Alto_128'>Alto_128</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Une Histoire de Deux Mercenaires [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, New Year's Eve</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:27:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,310</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28457688</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alto_128/pseuds/Alto_128</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the 31st night of the Lone Moon. New Year's Eve, nine months after the war against the Empire ended, and seven months since Byleth's coronation. Byleth talks out his regrets to Shamir.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>My Unit | Byleth/Shamir Nevrand</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Une Histoire de Deux Mercenaires [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935532</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>New Year's Recollections</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a beautiful night. The clear, deep blue night sky was illuminated with stars that speckled the sky like diamonds adorning a quilt. It was the last day of the Imperial Year 1186, nine months after the fall of the Adrestian Empire and seven months after Byleth was crowned as the reigning monarch of the United Kingdom of Fódlan. Ever the silent and slightly socially awkward one, he had excused himself from the traditional end-of-year banquet some time ago to the former Archbishop’s chambers on the third floor of the monastery. He had inherited the Archbishop’s chambers, now renamed the Royal chambers, ever since Rhea’s death and his coronation.</p><p>Sighing, Byleth got out of the comfortable four poster bed and walked out onto the Star Terrace. He knew his bodyguard was keeping her ever-vigilant eye out over the top of the Monastery, her bow ready to take out any threats to the new king. As he stepped out, she felt his familiar presence and they briefly embraced each other before separating. He leant on the railing and looked out to the courtyard below, where villagers, knights and the clergy were continuing their celebrations. His bodyguard put down her bow and stood next to him.</p><p>‘Beautiful night, isn’t it?’ asked Shamir. Byleth simply nodded and gazed at her. Briefly, he thought back to his first meeting with her and their sparring match. He thought of that time that they danced together at the Goddess Tower during the Monastery’s founding festival. All the times where they had each other’s backs in battle during the war. He remembered the nervousness that he felt when he finally confessed his feelings to her over a tankard of cheap ale at the tavern in the town near Garreg Mach the night before they set out to conquer Enbarr. And finally, he thought of when he proposed to her with the ring that Father gave him when the war was finally over with all loose ends tied up.</p><p>Shamir noticed his look and started blushing. ‘I can feel you staring. Stop that,’ she said.</p><p>‘Sorry,’ muttered Byleth, ‘I was just… reminiscing, I suppose.’</p><p>‘About the war?’</p><p>‘Sort of. About us, actually.’</p><p>‘Oh.’ She turned a little redder. In amicable silence, the couple simply stood on the balcony and watched the merry scene below. But Byleth’s train of thought wandered back to the war, this time dwelling on the darker side. Of the blood spilt by both sides. The blood of his former students by his own hand. He regretted not having a deep conversation with Edelgard before she declared war. Oh, how he wished they could have solved it peacefully and avoid thousands of needless deaths, let alone her own. He almost wasn’t able to perform the <em>coup de grâce</em> in the final battle when he had a flashback of when she was a student at the academy. He had treated his class as if they were his own children. He also recalled the times when he had witnessed an ally’s death over and over while travelling back in time with Divine Pulse, trying to warn them of any potential dangers. He remembered their dying screams as an Imperial soldier ambushed them from behind and the stench of blood and-</p><p>‘You’re scowling. Something the matter?’ </p><p>Shamir’s voice broke him from his thoughts. She gave him a reassuring smile and squeezed his hand before letting go. Byleth hesitated in responding. He didn’t want to bring up the war and ruin the happy moment – it was New Year’s Eve for the Goddess’s sake – but he also didn’t want to keep these thoughts bottled up inside him. <em>I suppose I have already broken the mood by thinking about these things,</em> he reasoned. <em>I won’t tell her about how I had to watch her death twice. She wouldn’t believe me anyway. Someday I’ll tell her about it, but not today.</em></p><p>‘I guess,’ he said after a pause. ‘It’s the war. A part of me feels like I was responsible for all the bloodshed by not talking things through with Edelgard. That somehow all those people, our allies, our friends, even our enemies didn’t need to waste their lives so needlessly if we had sat down and saw each other eye-to-eye.’ </p><p>Shamir gave him a curious look before putting a hand on his shoulder. ‘Byleth, the war wasn’t your fault. If anything, it was Those Who Slither in the Dark who orchestrated everything behind the scenes. But don’t say things like that. Even if you did talk to Edelgard… Well, you taught her. You know what she was like. She wouldn’t have backed down anyway.’</p><p>Byleth sighed. ‘I know that. But never before has fighting and killing impacted me this much before. You remember my nickname as a merc, right?’</p><p>‘The Ashen Demon. So-called for your uncanny ability to kill without an ounce of remorse or emotion on your face.’</p><p>‘Yeah. That. That was because everyone I had fought until this war were just a faceless mob. A village hires us to take care of some bandits, we rout them, we get paid, we move on. But this was the first time I’ve fought people that I once knew personally. Had to kill former friends.’ He paused for a moment before adding bitterly, ‘Had to watch friends die.’</p><p>Shamir knew who he was implying with that last statement, and she was affected by her death much more than she let on. They were partners, after all. It was nearing the end of the Battle of Fort Merceus. They were growing exhausted, but they could feel that victory was close. Closing in on the Death Knight with the help of Linhardt and Lysithea’s Warp spells, Byleth, Shamir, Catherine and Seteth were slowly tightening a circle around him, preventing his escape. Suddenly, the knight barked an order and a small troop of soldiers ambushed them, providing him with the distraction he needed to escape. In the ensuing melee, Shamir had heard a cry and when she looked for the source, she saw Catherine fall to the ground, lifeless. Having witnessed the same event, Byleth desperately tried to muster the energy to use one last Divine Pulse, but to his horror, he felt no response from the power inside him. </p><p>Shamir observed her fiancé; the Ashen Demon, the King of Fódlan. His usual stoic and emotionless composure seemed on the verge of collapsing, with deep-seated regret and bitterness etched onto his face. At the moment, he wasn’t a renowned mercenary or the powerful ruler of the country. Here, he was just a man scarred by his experiences in war, confiding to the woman he loved.</p><p>‘Byleth,’ she started, ‘You are one of, if not the, bravest people I know. I fought alongside you. I know how you feel. I felt the same after the Dagda-Brigid war. We were lucky this time – I was the sole survivor of my group in that war – but this war hit differently. I didn’t get as close to the kids as you did, but I remember taking them for archery seminars and seeing their faces light up when they hit a bullseye. And then having to face them on the battlefield five years later.’ She sighed and pulled him closer. ‘You’re not alone like I was all those years ago. You have Seteth and Flayn. You have your former students. You have me.’</p><p>Byleth turned to face her, green eyes meeting indigo. He whispered his thanks and returned her embrace. He held her tightly as the people celebrating in the courtyard lit fireworks and firecrackers imported from the East to celebrate the coming of the new year at midnight. As bursts of colour streaked across the sky, the royal couple held each other close. </p><p>‘Happy New Year, Shamir. I love you.’</p><p>‘I love you too, Byleth. Happy New Year.’</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy New Year! I finished writing this at 4am on the 1st having started just past midnight, so please excuse any errors. I may come back and rewrite this later. I have alluded to several events that I had planned in the back of my mind, but haven't gotten around to writing a solid story for them yet. With that aside, I hope you enjoyed reading it.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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